Sink the Bismarck
by TT-5
Summary: May 24, 1941 - Britain is reeling from the news that the HMS Hood has been sunk, a glimpse at how the Foyles might have responded.


Sink the Bismarck

May 24, 1941

The telephone on his desk rang and Detective Chief Inspector Foyle looked up from his paperwork with a sigh and picked up the receiver. "Foyle"

"Dad?"

"Andrew." Foyle felt a smile pulling at his lips at the sound of his son's voice.

"Is it true Dad?"

"Is what true?"

"About the Hood."

Foyle closed his eyes briefly as the pain assailed him again, "Yes Andrew it's true. I spoke to Charles earlier." He closed his eyes again as he remembered how dreadful his brother-in-law had sounded. The only other time he had heard Charles that shaken was immediately after Rosalind died.

The shaky breathing coming through the receiver reminded him that Andrew had yet to reply. "Andrew?"

"Are there any survivors Dad?" Andrew's voice was very rough and Foyle face creased with concern, wishing he didn't have to break this news over the telephone.

"They won't know for certain for a while but Charles didn't sound very optimistic, if there are there won't be many."

"Christ!"

Foyle nodded, he had thought the same when Charles told him, so many young man killed so needlessly. It sounded like Andrew was having a conversation with someone else on the other end of the line, "It's true, no wait I'll come with you…we'll need tea and if it's possible put sugar in at least half. Yes give me five . . . _Oh God_!"

"Andrew?" Foyle's voice was full of concern but Andrew didn't seem to have heard him.

"Christ! Peter could be… _oh_ _God_ …"

"Andrew!" Worry made it an order as Foyle sat clutching the telephone, brow creased with concern.

"Dad" Andrew voice broke slightly, "can you ask…" a shaky breathe, "Peter might have been on the Hood Dad." His voice cracked, "I… I know that Josh and Daniel were but last time Peter wrote he said he was getting a new assignment but he didn't know which boat yet…"

He trailed off and Foyle's breath caught painfully in his chest. The utter horror that had blanketed his mind since he heard the news reports had only deepened after his conversation with Charles and he hadn't yet thought about whose sons those hundreds of sailors might have been. Hastings was a fishing town, most of the young men, including Andrew's very good friend Peter Davis, had enlisted in the Navy.

"They were so chuffed to have been chosen Dad, best ship in the fleet they said and now…" Andrew trailed off, his voice breaking again.

"I'm very sorry Andrew." Foyle spoke softly, hating the pain in his son's voice all the more because he knew there was nothing he could do to erase it.

"Me too Dad. No I'm coming. Sorry Dad I have to go, some of the lads had brothers on board and, well David and I need to tell them."

Foyle closed his eyes, one of the worst parts of his job was telling people that their loved ones had died and now his son, at just 22, was going to have to do the same.

"You will find out about Peter won't you Dad? I mean someone will know if he was on board."

Foyle nodded, "Yes of course, I'll get on that right away."

"Thanks Dad. I'll try and call later but, well you never know, we've only the one phone and a lot of the lads will need to make calls I think."

Foyle swallowed hard as he listened to Andrew fighting to maintain his composure. "Of course. Call when you can and Andrew, do take care."

"You too Dad."

Foyle sat holding the receiver for few moments after Andrew had rung off before shaking himself and asking the operator to connect him to the Admiralty.

It took a while to get through, unsurprisingly, but finally he heard his brother-in-law's voice coming down the line. "Howard."

"Charles, it's Christopher, I'm sorry to bother you."

"Christopher, what can I do for you?" Some of the military formality had dropped from Howard's voice and Foyle frowned worriedly at the despondency in his brother-in-law voice.

"You all right Charles?"

"I'm largely responsible for sending over a thousand young men, as well as some old friends, to their death! How the bloody hell do you think I am!" There was a moment of heavy silence and then Howard sighed. "Sorry Christopher, that wasn't fair of me."

"You couldn't have known Charles, nobody could have."

"Won't bring them back."

"No it won't." Foyle agreed sadly and for a long minute there was silence until Howard sighed again.

"I'm assuming you called for some reason other than assessing my mental state? Unless of course Alice put you up to this."

Foyle shook his head, refocusing on the real reason he had called, "No, no I haven't spoken to Alice. It's about the Hood I'm afraid." He hesitated for a moment and then pushed on, "I was hoping you could tell me if someone was listed on the ships roster or not."

"What's the name?"

"Davis, Peter Davis."

"Right, give me a moment."

Foyle waited nervously, chewing on his cheek and trying to work out if he could get to Andrew's base if it was bad news. Finally Howard's voice came back down the line. "Christopher?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"There was no Peter Davis listed on the roster."

"Oh thank God."

The open emotion in Foyle's voice caught Howard by surprise, "Who is he, a colleague's son?"

Foyle shook his head, "No a friend of Andrew's, they grew up together. Andrew called a little while ago, wanted to know if it was true and then realized Peter might have been aboard. He'll be very relieved to hear that he wasn't."

"Well that's something I suppose."

The exhaustion in his voice was understandable but still worrying and Foyle couldn't help asking. "How long has it been since you slept Charles?"

"Rather depends on what day it is."

There was no humor in Howard's voice and Foyle's frown deepened. "Err Right. Could probably do with putting your head down for a few hours then."

"I'll sleep once we sink the bloody Bismarck." There was steel in his voice and Foyle knew he would not be swayed.

"Right, well I should let you go then. Thanks again for the information."

"Not at all."

He was using what Rose had always called his "Navy voice" and Foyle hesitated for a moment before saying softly, "You can't take all the blame Charles, nobody could have known how powerful her guns were."

Howard sighed, "I know, it's just…"

He trailed off and Foyle nodded, "I know. Scotch on me the next time I make it to London?"

"I look forward to it, now I really must go."

"Of course, good luck Charles."

"Thank you Christopher and to you."

They rang off and Foyle looked back down at the long forgotten paperwork before rising to make himself a cup of tea.

It was hours later when Andrew finally called the house interrupting his father's silent introspection. "Foyle."

"Dad." He sounded exhausted and Foyle frowned.

"Andrew you all right?"

Andrew sighed, "Been better. Peter?"

"He wasn't aboard. Charles checked the ships roster and I ran into Malcolm on the way home, and he said Peter is on the Duke of York although they obviously had no idea where he is at the moment."

"Oh thank God."

"Indeed."

They were quiet for a bit the only sound being Andrew's shaky breathing. "It really has been a God-awful day." He said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "When the flight crew told me, I thought they most have misunderstood the report, how could a ship be blown up completely? Wing Co. didn't know any other details so that's when I called you."

He fell silent again and Foyle waited patiently for him to continue. "Then I had to tell the lads. It was awful Dad. James, John and Patrick all had brothers aboard and most of the rest of us a friend or two. I didn't know what to say…once they'd settled a bit I went to the Wing Co. arranged leave and trains and such, the ones who could have already left, the rest have trains tomorrow morning."

Andrew sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I wish I did as well."

Foyle frowned, Andrew had written last week to say he had some leave coming up and he had been very much looking forward to having his son home for a couple of days. "Your leave got cancelled?"

Andrew sighed again, "Not exactly. Wing Co. said I could still go but with so many lads away on compassionate leave we'd be stretched terribly thin. I'm sorry Dad."

Foyle shook his head, "Don't be, I understand and I'm proud of you."

Andrew snorted lightly, "Shouldn't be."

Foyle frowned, "Why do you say that?" He asked gently.

Andrew sighed, "The navy asked us to fly reconnaissance Dad, try and spot Bismarck but the cloud was too low. I convinced Wing Co. to let me try but I couldn't see a thing, only reason I found the field again was because on the lads set off a flair. Maybe if I had…"

Foyle shook his head, "No Andrew you did everything you could, more than that really." He shuddered at the knowledge that Andrew had flown in such dangerous conditions. "No one could have known how powerful the Bismarck's guns were. It's a terrible tragedy but not one that I believe could have been easily avoided."

Andrew nodded even though his father couldn't see him, "I suppose. I'm not sure I want to know who else was aboard Dad, first Rex now Josh and Daniel, that's most of our front line."

The pain in Andrew's voice broke Foyle's heart, "I know Andrew I'm so very sorry."

His voice was low and gently and Andrew suddenly found himself crying, "It isn't fair Dad! We were supposed to go for drinks when this was over and now we never can."

Christopher Foyle had never hated the distance between the airfield where Andrew was stationed and Hastings as much as he did as he listened helplessly to his son's chocked sobs. "I know son," he murmured, "I know."

For a few minutes there was silence except for Andrew's quiet sobbing and then Foyle began to speak, his voice soft and warm as he talked about the first time Andrew had caught a fish; and the Christmas Eve they had spent with the house freezing cold because, at five years old, Andrew had been sure that if they lit the fire it would stop Father Christmas from coming no matter how many times they assured him that wouldn't be the case.

He talked until his throat was dry and Andrew's sobs had stopped. The stories of those happier days helped to ease the ache in both their hearts and when Andrew finally had to go, citing exhaustion and a need to check on the other lads, he hadn't been able to resist murmuring, "Miss you Dad."

His voice was rough from crying but so full of love that it brought a lump to Foyle's throat and all he could say was, "I miss you too son, take care."

After they rang off Foyle went back to the lounge and picked up his abandoned tumbler of scotch, raising it in a silent toast to the men of the _HMS_ _Hood_ , God rest their souls.

The End


End file.
